Welcome to Gaia! ::

Syrus Schreyer used his pass to ping through, breathing deeper once away from the bitter cold and dropping windchill outside. Enjoying the warm quiet of a familiar scene — the Uni had the best library, he had a ‘student pass’ — borrowed from a colleague — so long as they were both blond and needing books? Who really cared where he sat to study. Best of all? His trip could hold a dual purpose; he wanted to read up on ancient military history — for fun — and go over a section in regards to limited liabilities for LLC’s, a favor to said colleague he was borrowing the pass from. Easier to send Syrus out to do the legwork for what wasn’t readily gotten online….


Espescialy since now he didn’t need to make excuses to take breaks and go watchdogging for his missing man. The conversation about which had wound on — long on — he’d sought out the aforementioned players. Prehnite, Ransomite, inquired on the inquiry posted in the database, asked questions he believed pertinent. The purple haired one too engrossed in feeding something an unhealthy shade of red to the maw of —- a very odd looking plant with crystalline teeth — he hadn’t stayed long enough to ask for details beyond what he’d expressly needed.

Ransomite had been — busy — not too busy to text via tablet, or to answer his calls in that same manner, but just busy enough that Cryolite couldn’t seem to find hide nor hair of the b*****d. Fine though — that was all very fine — he had Faustite to ask; experienced, deadly, forlorn looking, but far more open to him running a line of questions and dialogue.

Because he was not ‘Albite’, with a hardon for hard times and wanting to tear through a void of demons just so he could wed the hottest of them all! N scald his fool lips in the process…

Any name he wanted to make for himself, it was toes into the pool he knew to be fathoms deep and full of things far more deadly than sharks. He wasn’t about to chase scales, or murder all of space. Finding a man though? A single, human, male, *man* — all because an acquaintance of a General had interest in acquiring him? That was very much up his alley in a ‘we walk before we run face first into death,’ sort of way.

He could ping Faustite for help, he could also, apparently, ask Mizuki to laude his name up in a good way to her — what was he — father-fern? Whatever, seemed so long as he followed the protocol of: get pictures of manly looking male to Ransomite. Then he’d get a head pat and job well done. Maybe even a shiny trinket from somebody, or so he hoped. If all else failed he’d have a good time of it with Faustite, it was always fun to tease the fire with out of reach bits of kindling, like the talk of boys, between passing conversations about Waru, wine, and general peopling problems.

All his intent as he hunted quiet alleys full of bound pages — and slowly got lost in the maze of them all.

He had more stacked in hand then intended, library's always did that to him. His own kryptonite weakness that he went to his knees for; what with the buildings mazelike walls of endless knowledge, the nuance of an aged spine and gold leafed pages just ******** shining with intrigue that he had to leaf through. If he had the space he'd hoard them, and he sighed for his lack of resolve at that fact.

One sigh became another, became a breath of awe and a blink of awareness, while his handfuls of chaos became organized -- and then the process slammed to a halt --

Before him was a man, and if he openly stared it'd seem rude, better to offer icy little flashes to the side, better too--- and this was the part he hadn't thought out, wasn't it? He couldn't just go taking pictures of people when they were in the library. That was ******** obvious, he wasn't a street down and window gawking, or at a café watching people with their noses buried in oh so many other things.

He had to be very careful about this.

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't mean to be rude, but -- can I ask for the title of what you're reading?" quick, pleading, lost-bunny like, and maybe he looked like enough of a frazzled mess that this one would hazard him a quick and inconvenient conversation.

All he could do was hope and try, right?

Well ********, he's not just some hot doppelganger, he's smart too---- the thought fizzled and the marked bit of frazzled-ness that sat on Syrus's face took on some odd state of reality; far less feigned and far more real for a moment-- in that Syrus had no way to tell the man he didn't care for the topic or the cover. No, he cared only for the image of the person holding said book and the way it mostly matched the nearly too vague words of a description he'd gleaned over, and over, and over for his 'mission'.

He suddenly feared the conversation wouldn't be nearly as quick as he needed it to be, though he was sure it'd be no less inconvenient for either of them.

"I'm studying law, actually, but I have a friend--" a half truth, he did have friends, and some of them were even other Agents. It could've even been said through some seven degrees of seperation-esq bullshit that he and the General who'd put this mission out there were also friends! If one squinted, and stretched that truth to near breaking. "--botanist, chemist, into all sorts of things 'plant'. He sent me on this library hunt you see and, well..."

Syrus searched the heavens for a prayer, let his gaze catch the rows of books he'd rather be burying his nose in, let them fall back onto the man that -- for all intents and purposes -- looked the least bit like a chemist as he could've ever imagined any one person looking. It was a beautiful 'don't' judge a book by it's cover' moment for the blond. So much so that he had to blink to find the words he'd lost in the rafters. He dragged those words down, laid them out, slowly. The ISBN number wouldn't do a damn bit of good, he needed picture proof---

"A quick picture would do me one better actually, if I may? There's no point in reserving anything if its the wrong -- anything, actually. The way some professors want some other version of a revised copy of a new years edition, or, gods forbid, the digital edition with testing materials...." he made for his phone with an apologetic wince, waited for that waiver of permission to be granted his way.

Syrus let his relief ebb into gratitude, into a more genuine smile, easier to stand on familiar ground and banter back and forth over various woes shared through all of academia — “You see, that’s why I rather like my career path. Very little changes ever, if at all, and usually not quickly enough that we need to bother with — well — genres of volumes, heavens forbid anything’s easily accessible in an online archive. To be fair? Anyone can pass the bar if they study hard enough—the degree and study behind it simply look good on my resume.” Syrus huffed easy truths even as he made a show of taking photos of the book, it’s cover, it’s back, the numerics in gold-leaf along it’s spine.

Saying his friend was a botanist felt like the right rout to go, the Plant General — ********, no, Prehnite was it? Seemed green thumb affiliated enough that he could sell it off as being true. Man’s office was drowning in foliage as badly as his eggplant purple n leafily brocaded attire was—

“Would you also mind if I got a picture of you— also for my friend? I suddenly realize I’ve a bet I can win, if you’d be so inclined to help? ” and what did he follow that up with? ‘I can make it worth your while’ — cliche as it was gag worthy, because even if th r man before him looked fit enough to bust through a blouse and blazer simply by flexing?! Syrus wasn’t hear for that, which lead to a brief hesitation, a lack of focus between subject book and subject ‘hot library asset’ as he held his camera phone deliberately facing the book in question, there wasn’t going to be any sneaking of *anything* with the man staring him down.

No. Better to leave the words where they sat and take the yes or the no — maybe a picture of the behemoth book bearer from behind would’ve been as approved as one from the front?

For a moment Syrus was genuinely flattered, felt the sharpness of his features soften into something real — warmly bemused by the shared hope for something fresh, young, better, now! Gods did he want that for the world as a whole, as it was? Baby steps — fetching hot coffees and passing exams and working on small potato claims just to practice, and maybe more importantly? Rubbing elbows with enough of the right people (while taking the ankles out from under enough of the wrong ones) that he got the chance to be someone young and influential, instead of an old, dried up, raisin progressing the march of man across the face of his fellow man.

He could have hopes and dreams after all, couldn’t he?

Of course he could, and the — professor? Librarian? ********, he hadn’t really gotten the man’s name had he!? No, that didn’t matter, he needed faces, not names — and what a face —- handsome. And the laugh? Infectious. He was going to be telling Matt about this one, how he nearly got himself thrown off by a pair of pretty eyes framed behind the neediest sort of glasses…Oh yes, he’d absolutely have to tell Matt about this, and maybe watch his man become jealous enough that he reminded him how the only pair of eyes he needed? Well, he already possessed— sets of pink and brown and auburn — it wouldn’t hurt to stare into his beaus for awhile though; to have the physical reminder to go along with the mental one.

“My friend is, let’s say, picky, and prickly. Maybe he’s ace? Maybe he — umnh how to say — simply hasn’t found that certain spark in another human being yet?” Syrus hummed his way through the beginnings of the explanation encouragingly, hoped to high hell it sounded real enough!

“He doesn’t quite believe a person can have a solid I.Q above eighty-seven and still be aesthetically pleasing. I bet him otherwise,” and for a moment he did let his eyes rove, but his lower lip, and slid open the photos section on his phone — a neat little folder full of some fair few dark hued handsome types, some of them even being Aramis and Waruhiu — just in case — cause who knew? Maybe the plant General had simply seen some people he’d known personally at the park who were already integrated with the negaverse.

“And I would simply love for you to prove him wrong, just the one picture, you can even model with the book—just, really rub in the whole, ah, ‘hot guy in glasses’ look? You see I’ve tried getting pictures of other people, but? No luck in getting any reaction from him, yet.” Syrus emphasized the ‘yet’ firmly as he scrolled over a few images in the file labeled ‘hot chocolate’ for shots and giggles. Couldn’t hurt to linger over the more familiar to him faces; because he could imagine Waru, side-step of a gym bro holding a book. Knew it would be upside down and backwards in any image — knew the man would, undoubtedly, no matter how posed the scene or hot of a man he was, look completely off, alien, unsure while holding any thickly written text. Knew Aramis was more scaled into being a slender socialite than an academic.

“What do you say?” and if he stopped just short of spitting out ‘Sir’ — because this man looked like a ‘Sir’ if ever he’d met one, maybe also a—well— a great many things, actually, but mostly a Sir.

Syrus was undoubtedly blushing, of all the conversations he'd ever imagined having in the quite confines of a collegiate level library -- this!? This was certainly not one of them! Though he supposed he'd started it, hadn't he? Had shoved open the door wide -- and found on the other side of it a man who was -- surprisingly open. It left Syrus feeling starstruck and awed for a few moments, a pale fish aflounder on dry land. Oooh, and the information was solid, generous, the man behind it clearly experienced in ways that caught Syrus's attention ********, mission, mission, and how he was reminding himself he as on one and how he was also hoping beyond hope now, that this man either was who they were looking for? Or that he wasn't. Would've been a shame to lose any of that knowledge of the world to something as silly as a little bit of indoctrination---However? If they could've hooked him in. What a fount of fun that would be! Uggh...the situation was entirely unfair. What would've been a short text and cuddle session with Matt after would most certainly become some all night divulgence--he liked philosophizing a much as he liked discussing any and all things with his beau. Humanities capacity for different types of affection, the lengths any one persons love could go to without being deemed sexual. Syrus suddenly felt novice in a thing. He wanted a book of his own to read, something not on chemicals or plants. The tall man's voice going on, the soft breeze of air vents whirring above, all the little reminders that Syrus was in a Library -- and needed to focus!

"Honestly, if he doesn't budge for you? He won't budge for anything, I'll have to take the loss with grace--and maybe do some more research of my own. Something more in depth than -- ah, reaction seeking?" A clearing of his throat as he swallowed the oft pink of his cheeks down. "You see, he's constantly surrounded by women, an entire pack of them, but they might as well all be his sisters -- his daughters -- that sort of thing? And while I believe in the strength of friendships and boundaries of 'professionalism'. No one is that strong willed...So I assumed...."

Sheepish at the tail end, as he was suddenly nodding that 'yes' the mans pose would work just fine! That it was the most effective pose he'd ever seen! He should ******** model -- for the love of---a hand over his mouth as he focused only on the phone in his other hand. Taking one, two, several sultry images; he would deny to his grave that some of them were strictly for his own bemusement.

"Th-thank you for this! I will--well I'm around often enough that you'll see me I'm sure. I can get back to you with the verdict later, can't I?" and why in all the seven hells he was asking anything like that!? Because he was curious, young, inept -- because this man spoke in ways that had knowledge behind them, and Syrus always had liked a mind to learn from. Found intelligence attractive -- even if it lead to nothing more than decent conversation.

Syrus squashed the idea even as he spoke, moving with all haste to make a beeline for the exit now that he had his proffered pictures in digital hand. He needed to get some fresh air...